


Six long months

by boredshootwall



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredshootwall/pseuds/boredshootwall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story takes place 6 month after the Reichenbach Fall.<br/>John tries to cope with life and Sherlock tries to find the last piece of Moriarty's web</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six long months

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS.  
> It's my first story and also English isn't my mother tongue, so please forgive me, if I made some terrible mistakes.

John sat in his chair, like he did so often the last months. "These damn  
bullet holes," he thought, while tears were rolling down his cheeks. Six months had passed since he stood  
on Sherlock's grave. Until now, he hasn't had the heart to remove all the  
things, which painfully remind him of Sherlock.  
  
From time to time, Mrs. Hudson showed up and wanted to force him to eat  
something. John hardly ate or slept for months. He even wasn't able to  
leave the house. Also Greg tried to convince him to leave Baker Street for  
an hour or two, but the memories of Sherlock, hidden in London, were still  
too painfully.  
  
His phone vibrated:  
  
 _Let's go out tonight. You need a distraction. I know it's hard, but I_  
 _think he would want you to move on. GL_  
  
John was staring at his phone. He knew that he had to chance something. He  
dried his tears and replied:  
  
 _Okay. I'm on my way to the Pub. JW_  
  
* *  
  
One hour later he and Greg were drinking a beer. "How are you?" the  
detective asked carefully. But John didn't seem to hear him. "Why are they  
so happy? It seems that everybody has forgotten him." "I can't do this, I'm  
sorry." he said to Greg, taking his jacket and leaving the Pub.  
  
  
  
Back in Baker Street, he sat down on his chair and looked through the  
empty flat. It wasn't just the fact that he wouldn't be able to see Sherlock  
again; there were some other things which made him sad. Things or better  
feeling, he wasn't aware of, before Sherlock died. "I love you," he  
whispered. Yes, he, John Watson, loved Sherlock Holmes. "Why haven't I  
told him? Why on earth, was it such a problem for me, what people would  
think?" He started crying again and, with tears in his eyes, not knowing  
what had happenend on the other side of London today, he felt asleep.

  
* *  
  
  
A tall, dark-haired man entered the darkened office of Mycroft Holmes.  
"Here you are. How was your journey?"  
  
"Well I don't think I'm here to exchange courtesies."  
  
"So you already know why I have called you back?"  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" the man in the dark coat replied.  
  
"Of course."  
  
  
Sherlock Holmes knew exactly why his brother had called him back to  
England. There was just one possibility. He found Sebastian Moran. In the  
last six months he travelled around the word, of course at Mycroft's  
expense. "Where is he? Are we going to arrest him today?" he asked  
impatiently."  
  
"Calm down, Sherlock. We don't want this to happen in a rush. You are  
going to get back to him early enough."  
  
"Coming back to whom?" Sherlock asked, but he already knew the answer.  
  
The last 6 months were almost unbearable for him. Separated from him. The  
first time he realized that he missed John was in a restaurant in Dublin.  
How was that possible? Such ordinary things like feelings? He tried to  
ignore it, but the harder he tried, the stronger his feelings got. Several  
times a week he wrote Mycroft to get some new information about his  
investigations. Everything would have gone faster, if he could have helped,  
for sure, but it was too dangerous. Too dangerous, that someone could find  
out that he's still alive. Too dangerous for John.  
  
Mycroft grinned and answered: "He's going to carry out a job tomorrow. I  
was able to get a spy into his organisation. He will give us all the  
information. Of course, you want to be present?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
With a smile the dark-haired man left the office. "Tomorrow", he thought,  
"tomorrow finally the time has come."  
  
  
* *  
  
  
John woke up, as his phone bleeped. He looked at his watch. 10 past 10. He  
must have slept through the whole night, like he hadn't done for a while.  
He stood up and took his phone.

_Come, if convenient. If inconvenient come anyway. 11am St. James Park._   
_Could be dangerous._   
  


For a second John's heart stopped. "How is that possible? This must be a  
joke. But who else knows those sentences, which brought us together so  
closely?"  
  
He threw his phone in the corner. "I'm going to ignore that." he decided.  
  
Nevertheless he found himself leaving Baker Street at half past 10. "That's  
ridiculous." he thought. Either he was just curious or he wishes this to  
happen so badly, John didn't really know why he went to St. James Park. He  
sat down and waited. "This is ridiculous!" he thought again and prepared  
him to leave, as a voice, which he hadn't heard for 6 long months, said:  
  
"I said dangerous and here you are."  
  
John's heart stopped for the second time today.  
  
"I owe you so many apologies. Believe me I.."  
  
Sherlock wasn't able to speak further, because John's punched him in his  
face.  
  
"How could you do that? Do you know what you have done to me?" He punched  
him again.  
  
"John, let me explain, it wasn't.."  
  
John raised his hand again, but this time Sherlock was able to catch his  
hand. For a second or two, they just starred at each other and then John  
kissed him. He braced himself to be pushed away, but it didn't happen.  
  
Quite the opposite happened, Sherlock returned the kiss.  
  
  
Sherlock felt John's tears on his lips. The world seemed to stop moving.  
Slowly they detached from each other.  
  
"John, I have to explain a lot to you," Sherlock whispered.   
  
"Yes, you have," John answered and took the hand of the dark-haired  
man, "you have, but first we are going home."


End file.
